The Atlantis Gene: A Thriller

by A. G. Riddle

  which could have easily been 200 feet tall, based on its height relative to the Rock of Gibraltar. The wave washed over the ship and into the primitive city, destroying it in one violent sweep.

  The ship was listless, and the wave carried it into the city, flattening the stone monuments and huts as it went. Then the waters receded, dragging the ship with it — more than half the ship was still under water. It dragged the ship out to sea, and sparks flew along the bottom as it skidded against the seafloor below it. Then the hologram flashed red and white as a massive explosion erupted below the ship, ripping it in two, three, now four pieces.

  “We think it was a giant methane pocket on the seabed. It exploded with the force of a dozen nuclear warheads.”

  The water was rushing back over the broken ship, and the image returned to the lab and the Atlanteans. One of them had been thrown against the bulkhead. The body was limp. Dead? The surviving Atlantean hoisted the Neanderthal like a rag doll and shoved him into a tube. His strength was amazing. David wondered if it was the suit or his natural strength.

  The Atlantean turned to his partner and hoisted him up. The image winked out as the man left the room. The hologram followed him as he ran through the ship. He was thrown about — no doubt as the waves rocked the ship and it floated lifelessly to the bottom of the sea. Then he was in the chamber where Craig and David now stood. He worked the panels for a moment. He didn’t actually touch the controls, he merely worked his fingers above them as he held his partner on his shoulder.

  The computers shut down one by one.

  “We think he’s activating the Bell here. An anti-intrusion device to keep animals like us out. It makes sense. Then he powers off the computers. We’re still scratching our heads at this next part.”

  On the hologram, the room was almost dark except for the faint glow of emergency lights. The man stepped to the rear of the room and touched something on his forearm. A door slid open before him. David followed it with his eyes — the door was there, but it had the spear in it now. The Atlantean looked around, paused, and walked through. The door shut behind him — with no spear in it.

  David looked back to the door.

  “Don’t bother.” Craig shook his head, as if disappointed. “We’ve tried. For hours now.”

  “What’s in the door?” David stepped closer to it.

  “Not sure. A couple of scientists think it’s the Spear of Destiny, but we’re not sure. We think Patrick, or rather Tom Warner, had it down here, trying to cut a hole in the door or something.”

  David edged closer. “The Spear of Destiny?” David knew what it was, but he needed to buy some time and distract Craig.

  “Yes. You don’t know it?”

  David shook his head.

  “Kane was obsessed with it, and Hitler after him. The legend is that the spear was stabbed into the side of Jesus Christ as he hung on the cross, killing him. The ancients believed that any army that possessed the spear could never be defeated. When Hitler annexed Austria, he took the spear, and he only lost it a few weeks before Germany surrendered. It’s one of the many artifacts we collected over the years, hoping it, or anything else from antiquity, would provide clues to the Atlanteans.

  “Interesting,” David said as he grabbed the end of the spear. He pulled at it, and he felt the door move, if only slightly. He pulled harder, and the spear came free. He dropped his cane and lunged through the door as Craig pulled his gun out and began firing.

  CHAPTER 118

  Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  “No, don’t shoot them!” Dorian yelled into the radio, but it was too late. He watched the second man take two shots to the chest, and the third fall from shots to the shoulder and abdomen. “Stop firing! I will shoot the next idiot who pulls the trigger!”

  The gunshots ceased, and Dorian walked out into the open space toward the last man. At the sight of Dorian, he began crawling for his gun, leaving a trail of thick blood as he went.

  Dorian jogged to the gun and kicked it to the far wall of the lab. “Stop. I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I’ll get you some help. I just want to know who sent you.”

  “Sent me?” The man coughed, and blood ran down his chin.

  “Yes—” Dorian’s ear piece crackled, and he looked away from the dying man.

  One of the station techs came on. “Sir, we’ve ID’ed the men. They’re ours — one of the drill teams.”

  “A drill team?”

  “Yes. They’re actually the team that found the entrance.”

  Dorian turned back to the man. “Who sent you?”

  The man looked confused. “Nobody… sent us…”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I saw…” The man was losing more blood now. The shot in the gut would do him in soon.

  “Saw what?” Dorian pressed.

  “Children.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Dorian said. What was the world coming to? Even oil rig operators were bleeding-heart softies these days. He raised the gun and shot the man in the head. He turned and walked back to his Immari Security unit. “Clean this up—”

  “Sir, something’s happening in portal control.” The soldier looked up. “Someone just launched the basket.”

  Dorian’s eyes drifted toward the floor, then darted back and forth. “Martin. Send a team — secure the control station. No one leaves that room.” A thought ran through Dorian’s mind: the basket was launched. Kate. “How much time?”

  “Time?”

  “The bombs the children are carrying.”

  The Immari security agent took out a tablet, tapped at it, then looked up, “less than fifteen minutes.”

  She might still reach them. “Cut the cord on the basket,” Dorian said. It was a fitting end. Kate Warner — Patrick Pierce’s daughter — would die in a cold dark tunnel, just as Dorian’s brother Rutger had.

  CHAPTER 119

  David fell to the floor as the bullets ricocheted off the iron wall behind him. He spun around, crouched, and held the spear point-forward over his shoulder, like some prehistoric hunter ready to stick his prey when it emerged from the sliding door.

  But the door didn’t open. David exhaled and sat down on the floor, giving the wounded leg a rest. He didn’t see how Patrick Pierce had done it — all the walking around down here.

  When the pain subsided, he got to his feet and took in his surroundings. The room was similar to the one he had just left — the iron-ish gray walls were the same and so were the lights at the top and bottom of them. The room seemed to be a lobby of some sort. It had seven doors in all, fanning out in a semicircle, almost like a bank of elevator doors.

  Other than the seven oval sliding doors, the room was almost empty, save for a chest-high table opposite the bank of doors. A control station? The surface was covered in dark plastic or glass that matched the controls in the previous chamber.

  David stepped up to the desk and leaned the spear against it so he could use his good hand. He held his hand over the surface, like he had seen the Atlantean do in the hologram. Wisps of white and blue fog and light whirled around his hand. Tiny electric pops and shocks tapped at his hand. He wiggled his fingers and the light and fog changed radically and the pops and slight electric impulses swirled all over his fingers.

  David drew the hand back. Talk about out of your element. He had half-expected, or rather hoped, that some sort of help would pop up.

  He picked the spear back up. Stick to what you know: your hunter-gatherer ways, he told himself. There was another door, set off by itself, next to the control station. An exit? He walked to it and it slid open, revealing more of the Star Trek-type iron corridors that had led to the tunnelmaker’s secret chamber. His eyes had now fully adjusted to the faint LED lights that ran along the floor and ceiling.

  If the Atlanteans had run to this room when the ship had exploded 12-15,000 years ago, it stood to reason that this was some kind of escape pod or maybe a fortified sectio
n in the middle of the ship. Another thought popped into David’s mind: if they had come here, some of them could still be here. Maybe they had hibernated here, in other tubes.

  David looked around. There were certainly no signs of life.

  The elevator room opened onto a T-intersection. Both directions ended in another oval door. He chose the shorter path and limped along, using the spear as a walking staff. It helped immensely.

  At the end of the corridor, the door slid open automatically, and David stepped through.

  “Don’t move.” A man’s voice. It was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.

  David heard a footfall behind him. Based on the echo, the man (or Atlantean) was about his size. David raised his arms, still holding the spear. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “I said don’t move.” The man was almost upon him.

  David turned quickly, catching a glimpse, a flash of the man, or whatever it was, just before he felt the electric prod dig into him. It sent him to the ground and into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 120

  2 miles below Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  The iron basket wobbled as it hurtled down the ice shaft. It drifted over and cut into the smooth ice wall, spraying shards of ice all over Kate’s suit and visor. She raised her arms to cover her helmet just as the basket lurched back, almost throwing her out. The heavy cable that had bunched above the basket was weighing on it, tipping it end over end. The basket steadied for a moment, then tipped in one quick motion. Kate grabbed a bar at the top of the basket and dug her feet into the iron mesh floor, locking herself in like an astronaut in a zero-g training hoop that flipped end over end and side to side. The motion was sickening. She closed her eyes and pushed against the basket with all the strength she could muster and waited. More ice sprayed around her as the basket bounced against the sides of the tunnel. The impacts were slowing the fall. Then the walls disappeared and two long seconds passed and… crunch. The basket dug into a mound of snow, and Kate was plowed into the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

  She fought to suck a breath inside the suit. It was like breathing through a tiny coffee straw. When she had regained her breath, she rolled over and took stock of her situation.

  The basket had dug several feet into a mound of snow and ice, just below where the drill had punched through the chamber. It must have been the ice that had fallen down the shaft as the drill was extracted back to the surface. The bed of snow had saved her life.

  The soft mound of snow looked more like a snow globe — bright lights glowed deep within. Kate stared at them for a moment. They looked almost like a flock of fireflies, but they were no doubt the LEDs that had been dropped. They had sunk deep into the snow, and their light refracted out of the snow and into the large chamber. They also revealed Kate’s situation.

  The basket was about half-buried, and the part above the surface of the snow was covered in iron mesh. She was trapped, but there was a small opening — not large enough to crawl out of… but… she could make it larger if she dug under it.

  Kate began digging with her hands, like a dog trying to get under a chain-link fence. Finally, she thought the opening was large enough, and she dove head-first under it. Her head and arms were through, but the bulky suit caught against the jagged iron mesh. Kate tried to pull back, but the sharp mesh ripped the suit and held her tight. Cold air rushed in through the hole in the suit, assaulting her back as she wiggled to get free. She pressed her belly into the snow as hard as she could and pushed back with her hands, and she was back in the cage.

  The cold seemed to be numbing her body, bit by bit, starting with her back and radiating out. With each passing second it claimed more of her body. Her hands began to shake. The suit had provided more warmth than she realized. It was deathly cold down here. She would freeze to death if she didn’t act fast.

  She began scooping the ice with both hands, frantically trying to enlarge the hole. She felt her legs grow stiff, and she fought to balance as she heaved another handfull of ice into the basket. The hole was almost there.

  The cold air burned her lungs now, and her breath was an icy fog against the clear glass helmet. Soon the cold would overtake her lungs — she would suffocate to death before she froze. The fog — it had almost covered the helmet. She wiped it with her hand. Nothing. It was still there. She wiped again. Still there. Why wouldn’t it go away? Of course — it was on the inside of the helmet. She knew that. Why did she even try to wipe the outside of the helmet? What was happening to her? The cold. Shutting down her body. She could barely think. What was she doing before the fog? The sheet of ice inside the helmet was complete now — she couldn’t see a thing. She turned around, searching for some kind of direction. Like a dog in a cage, on all fours, searching for a sound in the night.

  A dog. A cage. The hole. Yes, she was digging to get out. She had to get out. Where was the hole? Kate felt desperately at the snow below her. She scampered around the cage. Nothing but mesh, everywhere. Was there a hole? Then her hands felt something, yes, it was there. But she couldn’t dig any more. She couldn’t feel her fingers.

  She dove into the hole and pushed with her feet. She felt the sharp metal mesh on her back, but she ignored it, pushing even harder with her feet. The mesh was on the backs of her legs now. She was moving. She dug her elbows into the ice and pulled, one elbow over the other, like a soldier crawling under a barbed wire obstacle course. How far had she gone? She kicked a leg up. She was free.

  She rolled over and got to her feet. She could only see the wall of fog that had turned to ice on the inside of her helmet. Which way was the structure? She started to run, but her legs felt like they were made of lead. The suit, plus her frozen legs — she would never make it. She was getting nowhere. Which direction should she walk? It was all the same — ice, and beyond, the faint glow of lights.

  She felt the ground rushing up. She was lying on the ground, rolling. The ice touched her back, sending a new wave of cold into her body, shocking her system. She arched her back and her eyes opened wide. She sucked in a breath and bounded onto her knees, breathing heavily.

  She had to think. She got to her feet and spun around. Lights. There were more in one direction than the other. She spun around again. Where would there be more lights? The domed chamber was massive. The lights — the snow globe, the fireflies inside… where the drill had come through… it would be on the opposite side of the entrance.

  Kate turned and waddled away from the light. She was so cold. Then there was a boom. The drone of metal on metal. It was ahead, but slightly to her right. Kate adjusted her vector and kept pressing forward. She fell again, but pushed up, putting both hands on one knee and dragging her other leg up. She couldn’t feel any part of her body anymore. She was simply swinging her limbs, hoping for a break.

  The crunch-crunch-crunch of snow below her feet stopped. The footsteps were quiet, but it was still cold. She was lightheaded. She took another step, then another. Keep walking.

  Behind her, metal-on-metal. The door closing.

  She was still so cold. She fell to her knees and then to the ground, face first.

  CHAPTER 121

  Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  Dorian watched Kate fall then get up and wander into the giant portal. The bell hanging above was silent. He glanced over at the countdown clock: 00:01:32

  Less than two minutes. He had been sure the fall would kill her, but a nuclear blast inside the tombs, just as good. Same end result.

  “Release me, Dorian.”

  Dorian turned and eyed Martin Grey. The gray-haired man struggled at the Immari Security agents who held him at each side. Dorian had been so obsessed with watching Kate die, or so he had hoped, that he had forgotten the old buzzard was still in the control room.

  Dorian turned to Martin and smiled. “It was you — the whole charade with Clocktower, then guiding them to the China facility.” He thou
ght for a moment. “And you helped them escape. It was you, wasn’t it? You contacted the Immaru, who rescued them. How did you know? How did you find them?”

  “You’re delusional, Dorian. Release me and stop embarrassing yourself.”

  “You’re very clever, Martin, but you can’t talk your way out of this one. You just helped Kate escape.”

  “I don’t deny it. I have never hidden my love for her. Protecting her is my first priority. I would have burned this facility to the ground if I had to.”

  Dorian smiled. “So you admit it — the drill team that attacked us was acting on your orders.”

  Martin shook his head dismissively. “Absolutely not. Think about it, Dorian. I don’t even have a way to contact them. I’ve never so much as met them.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter. I’ve figured it out, Martin.” Dorian studied the older man, waiting for a reaction. “Have you? Yes, I bet you have. The children survived the Bell because they were treated with stem cells from Kate and my child. Both of us were saved by the tubes, Kate as an unborn fetus in her mother’s womb, myself as a child suffering from the Atlantis Plague, or Spanish Flu if you like. Which means I can walk through that portal as well. But I’m going to wait a few minutes.” He motioned to the giant computer screen with the countdown. The last few seconds ticked off until it read: 00:00:00. The letters flashed in red. Dorian had expected some tremors on the surface from the explosions, but there was nothing. The structure must have impossibly thick walls, and the two miles of ice provided additional insulation.

  Dorian smiled. “Two nuclear war heads just went off down there. Kate didn’t make it to the children, I can assure you. She had less than two minutes to reach them, and I think she was in no shape for a foot race. You saw it. She suffered a great deal, Martin. She may have frozen to death inside the suit. Or at the very least, lost most of her fingers and toes — right before she died. That was very cruel of you.”

  Dorian waited, but Martin didn’t say anything. Dorian nodded to one of his security officers, who moved to the lockers and began readying a space suit. “I’m going to go down there and check on her shortly, as soon as they rig up a harness to lower me. I’ll let you know if we find any remains. I doubt it. But before I go, I want to share something else. I’ve figured out another mystery.” Dorian paced in front of him. “Do you care to hear it?”

  “It’s your freak show, Dorian—”

  “Don’t insult me. I hold your life in my hands.”

  “And your own. No council member can kill another—”

  “We’ll see about that. Mallory Craig forbade me from killing you a few days ago, but he’s come around — he sent Kate to me. He won’t veto your execution this time. But, as I was saying. The explosion in China. The children were simply treated with the Atlantis Gene therapy. The Bell radiation didn’t harm them, but it acted differently when Kate came into contact with it — the Bell shut down. That’s what happened in China. The Bell recognized her as an Atlantean — one of its own — and it shut down, sending a power surge of overwhelming proportions through our grid, destroying the nuclear reactors and every other relay in the entire facility. Do you realize the implications, Martin?”

  Martin stared into the distance. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Don’t be cheeky. You’ll want to hear this. It means our child is the first offspring of two Atlanteans, it’s the first of a new breed of human, the eventuality of human evolution. Its genome holds the clues to understanding how we changed 50,000 years ago, how we can continue evolving.”

  “Could have, Dorian. Your own—”

  “I couldn’t do it.” Dorian turned away from Martin. “As much as I hated Kate for what her father did to my family, I couldn’t bring myself to kill my own child. It’s still in a lab, in San Francisco. That’s what I wanted to tell you, Martin. All your meddling, it hasn’t amounted to a damn thing. I’ve won. A science team is extracting the fetus now for study. We’ll have a viable Atlantis Vaccine soon, maybe even a few weeks or months. And we’ll use it selectively—”

  A tech interrupted Dorian. “We’re ready, sir.”

  “Gotta go, Martin.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Martin stared at him.

  “I’m sure you woul—”

  “I know why you’re going down there.”

  “You know—”

  “The note,” Martin said, “that you pinned on those children. I know what was in it. A letter in German, from a hopeful little boy telling his ‘Papa’ that the children were carrying bombs and that he needed to get to an entrance as quickly as possible. You’re blind, Dorian. Look at the facts. And the carcases of those